While She Cries
by Katie D
Summary: This takes place many years after the big 3 graduate, I'm not really sure how long after. It's about a single mom (guess who?) and narrated by her teenage son. There's a hint of romance as well.
1. Default Chapter

Wow, this is my first fic in quite a while. I'm still working on a sequel to The Loving are the Daring, and on a Hermione fic, but they're aren't going well, so don't expect them any time in the near future, that is if I ever finish them.

This is kind of odd, and it's a different style from what I usually write, but I kind of like it. I don't own anyone except the narrator. Everyone else mentioned belongs to J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury and Scholastic.

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While She Cries

She's crying again. She's got her door shut, and her head is buried in her pillow, because she doesn't want me to hear, but I can. And I just sit here, doing nothing. I should do something. Comfort her, anything. I could owl Remus, but I don't think she would want that. So I lean up against the cool oak door, and listen to her cry. 

It used to be when she did this, I would go into my own room, and I would bury my head in pillow, and try to think about quidditch instead of her crying. That was when I was smaller. Now I'm a man and I can't go and hide, much as I want to. So I sit. 

She doesn't do this often. Usually she's just like anyone else's mother. Telling me to clean my room, and pick up my shoes, and don't leave dirty dishes in the family room. But on birthdays, and on The Day, and on September first, then she goes into her room and cries.

Sometimes Remus is here then, and I know they've decided on it before. He comes in the morning, and if she's already in her room then I open the door, and he goes up, and he says Alohomora, and the door opens. I just stand there in the hallway, and watch, and she pushes herself up from her pillow, like her head is filled with iron. But after she stands up she's okay, and she walks over to the doorway, and her eyes are puffy and he just looks at her for a bit. Then he opens his arms, and pulls her in, and she puts her head onto his chest and he bends his neck so his face is in her hair, and he puts his arms around her and her face seems to bury so far into his robes that I can't see her anymore, and he's just standing there with his arms around her long white nightdress. 

That's the way it used to be anyway, when I watched because I was young and didn't know any better, and they didn't see me. And then he would pick her up and carry her to her bed, and I would go downstairs and get his cloak and wrap myself up in it, because it smelled strong like him, and there were chocolate bars in the pockets. I would always eat just one, and leave the others. I used to think that I had to leave some, because Remus had to go help other little boys mum's when they cried. 

Now I'm older and I know better. If she's in her room and Remus comes then I say hello, and I shake his hand, and I point him up to her room. I take his cloak from him and hang it up, but first I take a bar of chocolate from the pocket. I don't follow him up, even stealthily like I used to. I stay downstairs, and I read some of the numerous books mum has and I try not to hear her cry.

Of course it's not only when she cries that Remus comes. He's here a lot, or at least he was before I went to Hogwarts, and he is when I'm home during the summer. He comes for dinner sometimes. And sometimes when mum needs the roof fixed or a bogart gets into the upstairs linen closet. He was here when she got me my first broom when I was ten and she couldn't stand to watch me ride it, and the day I left for Hogwarts. I wonder if she cried that day.

But even if nothing special is happening he comes once or twice a week for dinner. He stays afterwards and we talk or play a board game, or watch TV, or just sit. He was always still there when it was my bedtime, and they would take me upstairs together, and tuck me in. Sometimes Remus read me a story. I always liked those nights because I fell asleep and felt safe, because I always felt safe around Remus, and I knew he was just downstairs. When I got a little older and I couldn't be sent to bed they would stay up long enough to outlast me, or they would make a big show of saying goodbye, and he would leave, and then mum would say she was tired and go to bed. Of course I knew he always apparated from our front porch to her room, but I didn't say anything.

I sometimes wonder if they've ever considered that I know. I'm not sure why they've always been so secretive, because I think I've always known. I know they love each other, as friends if nothing else, and given their clandestine sex I think they must really love each other. But maybe they're just lonely. I've sometimes wondered why they don't get married, but I guess by now they're so set in their ways that they wouldn't see the point. Of course they could have gotten married when I was young, but I guess it didn't seem like the thing to do then. They probably think I'd feel threatened if he just came into our family now, but he's always been here, and it wouldn't bother me. Anyway, it doesn't matter because he's not here now, and all I can do is listen to her cry.

I wonder if he's going to come, sometime, I hope. Maybe just for dinner. She'll be okay by then, I think, but I want him to come. I'm only here for the day, because I've got it arranged with McGonagall to come home on all of the special days. This one is Ron's birthday. It's March first. And I want Remus to come because I'm going to have to leave her, and it hurts less when I know she's got someone with her. That's why I'll always be grateful to Remus, because he's here for my mum. He's always been here for both of us. 

It's because they're the survivors. There were five on that team, and they survived. They were together for five years, and those two were the only one's left. Her best friends died, and his best friend died. And they were the only two left. 

I spread out on the thick carpet, and hope again for him to come, because she's still in there and she's still crying. I can't do anything about it. I push my head into the carpet and breath. I pray that he'll come. I ask God, and then I ask my father. He's been gone for a long time now, since before I was born, and I say that even though I wish I'd known him, I've heard of him, from mom and Remus. I say that Remus has taken good care of us, and I ask him to somehow make him come and take care of us some more. Because I know my dad loved my mom, and I think even in Heaven he's hurting as much as I am listening to her cry.

Someone must hear me, because I sit only a few minutes longer, and then there's a knock at the door. I rush to stand up, and then move quickly down the stairs, and open up the door. And there is Remus standing there, and I let him in. I take his cloak, and point upstairs, and then impulsively I wrap my arms around him, as someone would a father, and I say "Thank you." 

He grasps me by the shoulders, and looks me in the eye. "You're a good man James." Then he goes upstairs, where he will open the door, and hug my mother in her white flannel nightgown, and she will stop crying. And I reach into the pocket of his cloak and pull out a bar of chocolate.

Please tell me what you think of this. I think it was clear, but if not, Hermione is the mother. I think you should know who the father is, but if you don't, then it's whomever you wish it to be. 


	2. I Will Stop Crying

This is a sequel/prequel here. I've got one more part to this story, and I may or may not end up making it a kind of series of vignettes (sp?). Tell me what you think. This part isn't the best, but it's not bad, and it's kind of crucial if I do end up making it into a mini-series. No one in this story is mine except for Steve, who's only mentioned once anyway. They all belong to JKR. Happy Reading!

I'm twenty-five years old, and to think, just twelve hours ago I thought that was old. I felt old and weary, like I had been through so much I was as elderly as Dumbledore. It's funny the difference a day makes. Because now, though I'm one day older, I feel as though I'm a small child, and I don't know where to turn.

I'm twenty-five years old, and three months pregnant, and more confused than I've ever been. I'm supposed to be Hermione, the one with the answers, but all I can do is lay here and cry. Harry is dead. My husband, who, when he was beside me, made me feel like everything was possible. Ron and Sirius are gone with him. All victims of a Death Eater ambush. There aren't supposed to be any more Death Eaters. We were a team in the network that killed him over a year ago. Harry and I thought we were safe, thought we could begin to build our life together. We were wrong. Remus and I survived. Only because we were working on a new spell, and were late getting to Sirius' for dinner. The Death Eaters were there when we arrived. We tried to help, but there were five of them. Ron was dead when we got there, with three Death Eaters on the floor beside him. Sirius was injured, and trying to block Harry from the remaining men. We did the best we could, and all of the Death Eaters were dead when it was over, but so were Sirius and Harry.

I laid down next to Harry when it was all over. The blood from his head dried and matted in my hair, but I didn't move. Remus must have owled the Ministry, because soon aurors began to show up. Friends of mine, most of them, but I remained where I was until Remus picked me up. He managed to apparate us both to the small house I shared with Harry in Hogsmeade, and he put me to bed. 

I am still here, laying in the dark, crying. Remus is sitting in the chair, his head is buried in his hands. I know both of us are thinking that we should have been there. We should have done something. If we'd been there, we would be dead as well, and I'm not sure which is preferable. I don't want to live without Harry, but I don't want my child to die. Death Eaters made the decision for me.

There are no more, at least. The eight killed last night were the last known Death Eaters outside of Azkaban. At least I don't have to worry about my baby. 

My eyes are scratchy, and the first rays of sun coming through the blue curtained window burn. A new day is starting, and Harry isn't here to see it. Neither are Ron or Sirius. Three of my best friends, gone. And the sun still dares to shine. I pull the soft blanket over my head, and slide further down into the bed. It still smells like Harry under here. I can pretend he's just gone to get us coffee, and that he's coming back.

I hear footsteps, and for a moment I pray that my fantasy is true, but it's not. Remus pulls the quilt down to my neck, and places a cold hand on my forehead. "Come on Herm. You have to get up. There are things we need to do." I know he's right, but I don't want to face the day, and I struggle to pull the covers back over my head. He doesn't let me, and reluctantly I get up from the bed. He puts a hand on my shoulder and leads me into the bathroom, shutting the door behind me.

I don't look in the mirror, just splash water on my face and brush my teeth. Then I turn the shower on warm, and pull off my nightgown and step in. I let the water fall over me, and for a few minutes I just stand and breath in the steam. Then I scrub the blood from my hands, and use Harry's shampoo to wash the hardened red-brown substance from where it has dried in my hair.

When I'm done, I pull on my old, comfortable robes, and pull my hair back with an elastic band. I go out and find Remus in the kitchen. He's changed clothes, and is just sitting there at the table. "We'll apparate to the Weasley's, I just spoke to Penelope." He takes my hand, "You'll get through this." I nod my head, and with a flip of our wands, we're at the Burrow.

Ginny sees us first, when we come in, and she rushes over to us and wraps her arms around me. There are tears running down her cheeks. Then Molly come over, she's not crying, but her eyes are puffy. She lays her hand on my stomach, which is still flat, "Poor lamb." Then she, too, hugs me.

Sandwiched between Remus and Molly, with Ginny on Molly's other side, we walk to the living room. Here the entire Weasley family is gathered, along with spouses. I don't know where the children are. Minerva is here too, because she took over the task force three years ago, and we were her agents.

I sit on a love seat with Remus, his arm around me, his hand rhythmically rubbing my arm, in a motion that is supposed to be soothing. I don't pay much attention, but they're talking about the funeral, songs and readings, and gravesites. "Full honor, of course," I hear Minerva say. But nothing she says will bring them back.

They finish, and Steve, he is here with George, comes over. He says he's made a lot of food in the kitchen, and shouldn't I eat? I don't want to move, but Remus pulls me up, and he thanks Steve, and then we go to the kitchen where I spoon scrambled eggs into a bowl, and eat.

The funeral will be tomorrow, per wizard tradition, and they'll be buried in Hogsmeade at a large cemetery near our house. The wizarding world is already in mourning for the Boy Who Lived, and his friends. No one cares about the Man Who I Loved, his godfather, or my red haired best friend.

We stay a few more hours, and I make small talk, though no one expects me too. I even hold some of the children, who know something is wrong, but aren't really sure what. Their uncle is dead.

Finally we go home. I think Minerva told Remus not to leave me alone, because he accompanies me to my house, and stays. He helps me make pasta for dinner, which we eat in silence. Then we wash the dishes, and split up the Daily Prophet.

I don't read anything about last night. Only the articles about food, and new research from the Greenwich Magical Research Lab, and about an explosion in Cornwall last week. By the time we're through with the paper it is only eight o'clock, but I say I'm tired, and stand up to leave the room. He stands up too, and gives me a hug. "I'll just be in the next room if you need me." He squeezes my hand. "We'll get through this."

I pull on pajamas, climb into bed, and promptly fall asleep. It's dark when I wake up again, and a glance at the clock tells me it is 2 a.m. I lay back and close my eyes, but I can't fall asleep. I get up and tie my robe around me, then walk to the kitchen to make myself some coacoa. 

I pour milk into a saucepan, and turn around. Someone is sitting at the table, and I jump a bit before realizing it is Remus. "What are you-"

"I couldn't sleep. It seems you couldn't either."

I look at him in the kitchen light, and I know I'm not the only one who's lost something through this. There are dark circles under his eyes, stubble on his face, and he's been crying. Yet still he's been taking care of me. I'm glad, because I've needed him, but I've got to be strong again, because I can't rely on Remus to keep me standing, guiding me through each day. I make my decision, that beginning after the funeral I will no longer allow myself to be this helpless and pitiable pile of goo that I am.

I will take control of my life, and do what needs to be done for myself and the baby. I can mourn my husband and my friends, and still take care of myself. It's what they would want me to do, and what they would expect me to do. Ron used to say that muggles would play quidditch and I wouldn't even look up from my book.

He wasn't talking about anything amounting to what is happening now, but I still think he would expect this. I can be strong and still remember, and that's what I intend to do.

Remus looks at me questioningly, and I'm pulled from my thoughts. The look in his eyes makes me want to tell him my troubles, so I do. "Remus, how am I going to do this? How do I have this baby, and raise it, by myself?"

He makes me feel better, just as I knew he would. "You won't be doing it alone. Your parents will help, and the Weasley's, and I'm always here if you need me." He gets up and brings me a mug of coacoa. "You aren't alone."

We sit in silence for some time, and I finish my coacoa. "Thank you Remus," and I rinse out my mug and go to bed.

Now it is morning, and I'm dressed in black robes. We're walking down the street to the church, Remus' arm around me. we take seats in the front, and I half listen as the minister and Minerva speak. Running through my mind is something Dumbledore once said, that Harry passed on to me when the great man died three years ago. "To the well organized mind, death is just the next great adventure."

It helps to think that Harry is back with his parents, and Sirius with them. Although it still isn't enough. I lean on Remus as we walk to the graveyard behind the church, and as they're lowered to the ground. As we walk away though, I dry my eyes. Now is the time I will be strong.


	3. He's Here!

New little vignette guys. This one's pretty short. I'm working on two more (at least) for this, one about just how Herm and Remus get together, and another one about Remus and James. 

Again, everything belongs to JKR, except James, and she's even got dibs on his name. This story is kind of in an open letter format, I hope you like it.

It's done Harry, you have a son. I've just come from the hospital to tell you. His name is James Ronald Ian Potter. Your parents should like that. Tell Lily and James, and Sirius too, in spirit, that they have a grandson. He's beautiful. He has hair like yours, and brown eyes. I was there, and Hermione was wonderful. You'd be proud of how well she's done the last few months. I was really worried at first, but she's doing okay, stronger than I ever realized she could be.

We did a Shooting Star enchantment on the nursery ceiling. You won't remember this, but your parents and Sirius will remember (and probably be amused) at how much trouble that we had doing that charm on your room. Tell them that the second time is the charm. Your wife and I did it without much trouble. 

The last few months have been quite an adventure. I learned more about different food combinations than I ever hoped, and I can now tell a kiwi flavored Bertie Bott's Bean at a hundred yards. I wall-papered the nursery, with Hermione's supervision, about a month ago. You'd think someone would have made a spell for that by now. 

Hermione is going to be a good mum. She's learnt from the best. Molly Weasley has been giving her advice for four months now. Just watching her with the baby today was enough to know that it's paid off. She was hurting, and sad and angry that you couldn't be there with her, but she was still wonderful with James. Your son is in good hands.

Don't worry, he'll know about his dad, and his grandparents, and his uncles Padfoot and Ron. Although just how much Hermione censors about the Marauders will be up to her. I promise though, he'll know about Mssrs. Moony, Padfoot and Prongs. One day, I may even give him the map, which has been in my keeping for the past months.

He'll have a father Harry. I know you want to be here for your son, but in your absence, I'll do the best I can. I know I'm just a bachelor and a werewolf, but watching Padfoot and Prongs care for you, I've seen the best in action. No matter what happens, I'll take care of your family Harry. I promise.

_Remus stood up from his kneeling position in front of Harry's grave. He took one of the flowers he'd set on the ground next to him, and placed it on the stone. Then he took the other four flowers in the bunch, and laid one each on the gravestones of Lily, James, Sirius, and Ron. Finally, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the chocolate cigar he'd purchased at the hospital gift shop. The wrapper was bewitched to flash 'It's a boy,' in various colors. He laid it on Harry's grave._ "You've got a son Harry. You've got a son."


End file.
